The kids were actually pretty excited, considering they probably haven't gone swimming in a real pool since hanging out at Aunt Banana and Uncle Soccer's community pool with Gommie and Pop last summer. Even when they're in the bathtub, they never willingly get their faces wet and freak when they get their heads wet (which means shampoo night, which is few and far between, always involves a bribe of Mama washing her hair with their help first).
But they were thrilled with new swimsuits--pink and white striped one piece with a little skirt for her, blue shark trunks for him--and new swim shoes (purple and blue, respectively; pink was sold out in her size). And they each selected a town, coincidentally the same blue beach-going huge fuzzy penguin towel.
So, we got ready: final trips to the potty, swimming suits, sunscreen application, cover shirts, towels, swim shoes, my bag with a bottle of water, more sunscreen, a check to pay for the lessons, and my camera to record the momentous event. And wouldn't you know it, when we arrived at the lessons, out came their preschool teacher whom we saw at strawberry picking last week. They were surprised and happy to see her, I think relieved that she goes there with her granddaughters. It suddenly made everything okay, especially because I'd already told them their swim teacher was a good friend of their preschool teacher. And look, proof!
And they did great. They liked meeting their teacher, whose haircut is like Gommie's, which made her even more acceptable, in addtion to being a friend of their teacher. So, they got in the pool on the steps (it was a big, heated--yes, it's still a bit chilly to swim in CT--in-ground pool), let her carry them out into the water, kicked, and paddled. Bud was only a little concerned about his staple, which I had called to inform her of, but there was no dunking or getting heads wet.
Instead, they both talked a mile a minute, about school, home, the turkeys that wandered into her yard during the lesson, the dragonfly buzzing around, how funny it felt to have wet shoes, how weird it was that their legs floated, how heavy their suits felt wet. When they swam on their stomachs, they said they were sharks; on their backs, they were otters. They told her how they had imagined her pool could be filled with different things and how they would drink it all up (I had told them not to drink the water. Or pee. Or run around. Or push anyone. Or ever ever ever go near a pool if an adult was not right there saying it was okay): Bud had wanted strawberry milk or lemonade, while Sis opted for chocolate milk, mentioning apple juice as a last resort. They said mine could be tea. Then, Bud kept telling her that he "already knew how to sink." Sis was more concerned about the bugs in the water and kept calling the teacher over to flick them out. They each eagerly awaited their turns and did everything she asked.
Almost. When the teacher asked Sis if she would put her mouth in the water and blow some bubbles, Sis just said, "No." Bud, of course, followed suit. But they both blew across the top of the water happily. I'm just glad they got in and paddled around. Faces and heads can come later. It really was a wonderful first try.
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